Pride and Prejudice and an heiress
by Vandylia
Summary: What if Darcy and Elizabeth switched places? Summary :Elizabeth, a young, wealthy heiress leads quite a dull and uneventful life...but things change when her decisive aunt plans a trip to Bath...Please read & review!
1. Chapter 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an heiress in possession of a large fortune draws suitors quicker than sugar draws ants, no matter the physical appearance of said heiress; what is a wart or a hairy mole on the nose compared to a hundred thousand pounds?

Elizabeth Bennet was one such heiress. However, nature had the good graces to bless her with a passably pretty face and alabaster complexion. That morning, her hair, of a rather mousy brown colour (or if one were to be poetical, of a cinnamon colour with hints of butterscotch, but really it was just plain brown) was arranged in its usual fashion, a simple bun with bits of curls draping over the back of her neck as was in fashion during her mother's youth. Her attire was simple: a plain sky blue muslin dress trimmed with lace around the edges. Presently, she lay reclined on a sofa-yawning through a novel she had already read twice- in one of the many drawing rooms in Egdon hall. _Why is life so dull? _ thought young Elizabeth. _Why couldn't Egdon hall be raided by pirates? Why couldn't prince charming hurry up and come already? Where was her fairy godmother?_

And as usual she answered those questions swimming round her mind with a heavy sigh. It was just another dull morning.

Egdon hall was situated in Homerstott, a quiet country town where the days were long and the nights, remarkably short. The inhabitants of the hall consisted of Elizabeth, her aunt, Lady Bennet and Charleston, the thoroughly indulged Yorkshire terrier. When not lying on a silk covered cushion, the pampered pooch was found either perched on his mistress's lap or in the chicken coop chasing after a stream of clucking hens.

Lady Bennet's niece was born an orphan, and since she herself was unmarried and without children, Elizabeth was taken under her wing and spoiled by her doting aunt. Ponies, dollies, castles, chocolates, bonbons, et cetera, were thrown at the child's feet. However, instead of being found rambunctious and capricious like other young girls of her rank, little Lizzie was unnaturally shy. This was first discovered by her aunt when a cousin of Lady Bennet's brought her children over to play with Elizabeth, who was then eleven. Instead of being delighted at finding children of her own age to play with, little Lizzie stole her timid face behind a curtain and ran back up to her room.

At tea when hunger finally made her surrender and come out of hiding, Lady Bennet forced her niece to sit down with her cousins for awhile.

"No!" the little girl shouted in terror. "Lizzie, they're your cousins and after supper, you can show little Diana your doll house, you-"

"But they're different…they won't like me, they won't-"

"Of course they'll love you! What made you get such an idea as that child?"

The little girl looked down at her feet and fumbled with her ribbons, not knowing how to explain her reasoning. Taking this as a positive sign, Lady Bennet clasped the child by the arm dragged her unwilling niece out into the garden.

Later that week, after the Tidburys' departure, Lady Bennet found her niece picking at a mushroom in the garden.

"See. You finally made friends with Diana."

Lizzie continued picking harder at the mushroom.

"She's such an angel of a child! Looks just like her mother…"

The mushroom was uprooted and lay at the child's feet.

"I've got their address so you can write to her."

Lizzie turned around to face her aunt.

"But I don't like her." She couldn't have said it plainer.

"Lizzie! What a thing to say! I've never seen a more charming good-natured little girl."

"She broke Beatrice's head off. And Ralph* says he hates her too."

Her aunt sighed and took her by the arm.

"I'm sure it was an accident. Come inside now or else you'll catch cold."

Though six years had done much to Elizabeth's physical appearance, her temperament remained quite unchanged. She still was quite timid except when she was in the company of her aunt or close friends.

And now, as I have done my duty and explained a brief history of our diffident heroine, let the story begin. However, if her history was not clear, I have written down a very summarized version of it below:

1803- Elizabeth Bennet was born

1803- Margeret Bennet (Elizabeth's mother) passed away

1803- Lady Bennet (Late 's sister, an heiress) 'adopts' Elizabeth

***Ralph – A stuffed teddy bear**


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: Thanks for the reviews :) This chapter is kinda long…but I felt I couldn't split it anywhere….**

Whenever Lady Bennet felt she had been deprived of society for long enough, a trip to Bath was arranged. In the past she used to travel alone but two weeks ago, after celebrating Elizabeth's seventeenth birthday, she decided it was time her niece accompanied her on these trips or in other words, it was time Elizabeth 'came out'. Previously, Lizzie had either stayed back at Egdon hall with Miss. Dafton, the governess or remained at her friend's while her capricious aunt sojourned all over Bath. So, you can imagine her excitement when she received this exciting piece of news from her aunt over breakfast.

"Bath!? With you?" Elizabeth exclaimed through a mouthful of muffin.

"Why of course child. You're a young lady, it's about time…and who else better to introduce you into society than your own aunt? I remember my 'coming out'. Mrs. Davies chaperoned me…oh I shall never forget the vulgarity of that woman...but let us not dwell on that…we are to leave tomorrow morning after breakfast."

After much squeals of delight, our eager heroine gulped down her breakfast and dashed upstairs to her bedchamber to perform the never before performed task of packing.

Lady Bennet smiled to herself as she observed her niece…oh to be young again!

An hour or two later found Elizabeth seated on a tasseled stool, in front of her boudoir, in a battle between two shawls held close up to her face. _The chartreuse or the fuschia?_ A sigh escaped her lips as she tilted her head this way and that. Catching Elizabeth's eyes in the mirror, Linda, a maidservant who was busy packing the misses under things meekly suggested, "I might recommend the green shawl, miss, it does match with your eyes." That was all it took to make up Elizabeth's indecisive mind and the fuschia shawl was likewise discarded on the floor.

Having decided on all the necessary accessories for her attire, our impatient heroine then sat down at the writing desk to compose a letter to Penelope, her best friend.

Dearest Penny,

_It has been a while since I last wrote and I hope this letter finds you well._

_Oh, I have received such wonderful news! My aunt is traveling to Bath tomorrow and I- along with Charleston- am to accompany her! We intend to call on you on our way and I plan to force you into accompanying us. No, don't shake your head. I'm sure you'll be allowed; after all it's only me and nana. So put off all your little insignificant engagements for the week._

_Yours affectionately,_

_ Lizzie_

The letter was sealed and dispatched by post.

Farlington Park was a large estate of ten acres. About four quarters of the land was used for farming; the crop produced from the Farlington was enough to feed an entire village. The rest of the estate was mountainous woodland which stretched all the way to the sea. In the middle of all this woodland was a large clearing and in the middle of that clearing stood a stately looking building. Mr. Brompton often prided himself for being the source of most of the produce in Meryton. He was exceedingly interested in farming; so keen on it that he would actually take long walks- for his doctor had advised him not to ride-to the farmers' cottages and survey some of the crop himself. The farmers too were fond of their landowner for he was a very good-humoured, jovial sort of man, never in a bad mood.

This morning however, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Trapped indoors, Mr. Brompton then decided to look into his accounts and performed all sorts of calculations which I am not going to explain as I am sure the reader has no more interest in them than I do. Therefore, let us take a look at Mr. Brompton's lady, Mrs. Georgina Brompton who was at the moment when her husband was busying himself with rows of numbers, was seated calmly in the drawing room, knitting away a purse.

Mrs. Brompton was a very calm woman. Even in the mouth of an active volcano, she would have remained utterly composed, absorbed in her knitting- for she was always knitting- or other trifles such as household matters. At nineteen she was married to Mr. George Brompton, who gave her two children in the course of seven years: Penelope Brompton and Nathaniel Brompton. Penelope who had just turned eighteen was two years her brother's senior. No longer having the need for a governess, she spent most of her days either helping her mama or riding outdoors. Unlike her mama, Penelope simply hadn't the patience to sit down and knit, or do anything at all which required patience. She couldn't draw, embroider, read or practice the piano for more than five minutes without keeping her feet still. Preferring instead activities which required little thought/ concentration, she took to riding and dancing.

This morning however, she was stopped on her way to the stables by Mrs. Limpsy, the housekeeper who said a letter had arrived for her by post. Immediately throwing her hat aside, Penelope reached for the thin envelope on the tray and tore open its seal. When she saw from whom it was, an expression of delight broke out on her face and her eyes devoured the contents of the letter. Having gone through the letter in a second or two she ran upstairs to the drawing room and conveyed its contents to her mama, who sat knitting by the window.

"Oh mama! Please let me go! It will only be for a week and Lady Bennet will be chaperoning us so you need not worry at all."

Penelope, though she was one year Elizabeth's senior, hadn't been out in society much. Mrs. Brompton preferred to have her daughter at home, being useful to herself. She did not care for such trifling amusements as dancing and she cared even less- this is odd in a woman- for her daughter's future: she simply couldn't care less if Penelope married or not. After all why should she? She would be an heiress anyway, being the eldest; she wouldn't need a husband to look after her. So, it was after much thought and consideration that Mrs. Brompton nodded her head and sent her daughter shrieking with glee out of the room.

Meanwhile, at Egdon hall, the bell was run for dinner.

Elizabeth was still in her room looking over some dresses and making some last minute alterations to a bonnet (for she preferred doing the mending herself). She was in no mood at all for dinner. All that excitement had filled her stomach and taken away most of her appetite. Finishing the last stitch, she placed the bonnet on her bed and admired her work. She had adorned the sides with bunches of pink roses, stitched out of ribbon. _How well it will go with my pink spencer! _she thought. Scarcely had she tried it on when the bell rang again. _Oh how tiresome nana is sometimes!_ Putting the bonnet aside and smoothening her hair, she quitted her room and descended to the dining room. Half way down the stairs, she immediately stopped as her eyes caught the figure of a second person at the dining table. Stooping and looking in between the banisters, she ascertained herself of a few facts. The guest was a man. Ordinary-looking and of small stature. And she had never seen him before. Presently, he was engaged in a whispered conversation with Lady Bennet. Elizabeth thought it odd they should whisper, for she hardly knew her aunt to be discreet about anything. And why hadn't she been informed of his arrival? Wrinkling her nose, our curious heroine noiselessly descended down the remaining steps and made her appearance.

"Lizzie darling! There you are! I was about to ring the bell for you again! Why you took such a long time getting _dressed_! Well now, come and meet a good friend-cousin- of mine, Mr. Collins, Mr. Collins, my niece, Elizabeth Bennet." As the introduction was being made, Mr. Collins rose gallantly (tripping on the table cloth while doing so) and brought his lips to his fair cousin's hand. He almost equaled Elizabeth in height and had a receding hairline. When their eyes met Elizabeth thought she discerned something very much like amusement and self-satisfaction in his expression. What, did he think she spent all those hours getting dressed especially for him!? Oh how she hated her aunt sometimes!

"I didn't know you were to be our guest, Mr. Collins. I wouldn't have taken much time upstairs if I knew. I know how rude it is for a guest to wait on his hosts. Pardon me." Elizabeth said archly- to the point- and was quite surprised at finding herself capable of speaking so coolly.

The dinner continued as usual, with Lady Bennet rattling away, much to the delight of her guest and displeasure of her niece.

"Oh our company here in Homerstott is very limited, so I'm traveling to Bath tomorrow. I'm in need of a little change in society and air. We're stopping by at Meryton on the way."

"Meryton! Why, that is exactly where I am headed! My friend, James is holding an auction at Ridgeston House. Yes, they are auctioning every article of furniture off and I myself am keenly interested in a certain piece of china- a pipe- which stood in their drawing room last year. I say, it still is quite astonishing news. Who knew the Eshtons would suddenly end up bankrupt!? It is a grim situation for the entire family. Heard they fled to Scotland. Fancy that! Fortunately they will be able to make quite an impressive sum by auctioning off their furniture. ."

"I hope so. Mrs. Eshton was such a good-natured woman. I think it's very unfair such ill-fortune should befall such a kind soul as that. Well since you yourself are travelling to Meryton tomorrow, why not accompany us? I'm sure it'll be more agreeable than travelling alone wouldn't it Lizzie?"

Elizabeth dropped her fork and stared at her aunt in horror. Throughout dinner, she had often found Mr. Collins eyes linger on her- as if a lion were surveying his prey- and it distressed and vexed her greatly. Presently her cousin cleared his throat and she forced herself to say, "Yes indeed, you must accompany us."

"If it isn't a trouble to you, I will be more than obliged to do so. Who could deny the pleasant company of so fair a cousin and so amiable an aunt?" Collins said with a grin revealing a piece of lettuce stuck in between his fore teeth.

While Elizabeth made her way back to her room after dinner, our heroine shuddered as she mused on the prospects of the trip.

Stuck in a carriage with a doubtful mouse of a man who would travel two hundred miles just for the purchase of a pipe! And in addition to that, a rattling aunt who would only rattle more in his presence! Or how was she going to bear it?


	3. Chapter 3

It was raining as if all of heaven were weeping.

The chaise of four bobbed up and down as it wobbled along the muddy road lined with wild trees on either side. A blanket of thick sinister clouds had gathered up above, blocking out any sunlight. Even though it was hardly noon, it felt like evening.

Elizabeth Bennet, an occupant of the carriage, rested her head against the rattling window and struggled to keep her vomit down. It was almost three hours since their departure from Egdon hall. Lady Bennet- who sat opposite her niece- had entered the peaceful world of slumber a few minutes ago, and Charleston, the little Yorkie had followed his mistress and was snoozing alike, bundled up on her lap. Mr. Collins- who sat next to Lady Bennet- had received the most wonderful idea about an hour subsequent to their departure to recite a passage from a miniature pamphlet of Fordyce's sermons which he had produced from a discreet coat pocket. There was hardly enough light to see, let alone read and here Mr. Collins sat, preaching away to the worsted cushioned seats of the carriage. Every now and then, he would lift his large nose from the little book and dart a look at his cousin, assuring him of her attention. _Oh what a tiresome man! _thought Elizabeth_. I wonder how many other hidden pockets he has in that great coat of his, stuffed with sermons! How can nana possibly sleep!!?_

Now, for a brief history of our dear Mr. Collins.

Mr. Collins or fully, Mr. Higbert Collins was the second son- and child- of the late Mr. Hugh Collins, owner of Collins & Co., a prestigious ship manufacturing company. After his father's death, Wilbert Collins, his brother, took after his father's business and Higbert – our Mr. Collins- was left with two options: to study law at Oxford, or to take up the parish on their estate and be a clergyman. Being a pious man, Higbert was only too ready to accept the living of the parish and take up the position of clergyman. After all, late Mr. Collins, having only two sons, had left each of them an impressive sum on his will which would have lasted them throughout their lives, however little they would earn themselves.

Going back to the present situation…

As Mr. Collins preached away with his great nose buried in the leaves of that minuscule book, Lizzie sighed. She had lost all her patience- which was a lot- and sitting upright said,

"Mr. Collins, I'm sorry to interrupt you but I feel I've grown a headache from traveling and am going to get some shut eye if you don't mind."

"Oh-Of course Miss Bennet! Rest is vital to anybody's constitution and sleep is- according to me- the best gift God has bestowed upon man. To deprive anybody of harmless slumber is a sin. I myself get at least eight hours of sleep a day and make it my duty to make sure those around me get proper sleep as well. So, rest your eyes dear cousin; I shall be completely content reading to myself."

Thanking the angels up above, Elizabeth shifted into a more comfortable position and was just about to close her throbbing eyes when all of a sudden a violent jerk shook the carriage from ceiling to floor, flinging its occupants off their seats.

"What in-"

"In Heaven's name!" Lady Bennet screamed, picking Charleston from the floor.

"Are were here already?"

Looking through the glass on either side, Elizabeth saw only woodland and concluded her worst suspicions.

"I don't think so nana."

"What in the world has happened Collins?"

The copy of Fordyce's sermons had flung out of Mr. Collin's hand and he was busy looking for it underneath the cushions.

"Collins?"

"Yes ma'am?" he answered raising his head, quite out of breath.

"Where on Earth are we!?"

Looking quite confused, Mr. Collins looked through the window and answered calmly, "I think we should be in Kernshill."

"Kernshill!" Rang her ladyship

"W-Why we aren't to stop until Harrowsgate!"

Elizabeth only looked at her aunt and wondered how dim she could be sometimes.

"Nana, I think we've had an-"

"Paul!!!" Lady Bennet yelled, cutting her niece "Paul! Why are we stopping!?"She cried, hitting the ceiling.

"Paul!!"

No answer.

"Simon!!?"

After a few seconds, the carriage door was thrown open with great difficulty by the feeble hands of Simon, a young servant.

He stood panting for sometime before he could talk.

"M-Ma 'am.." The boy finally broke out. He looked quite pale and his lower lip trembled. "P-P..Paul's…uh..e's.." Unable to finish the sentence, he looked down at his feet and quivered.

"Oh for goodness sake boy!? What is the matter with you? Tell Paul that we are to stop at Harrowsgate and that if he wants to relieve himself, he'll have to hold it."

Elizabeth looked at the boy kindly and tried to speak to her aunt.

"Nana-"

"Mr. Collins, if you would be so kind, could you please get down and tell Paul we are to stop at Harrowsgate not Kernshill?"

Mr. Collins nodded his head most obediently and descended down the steps, spluttering mud all over poor Simon's trousers as he landed on the mud.

He was half expecting a reproof but the boy just stood mute, his eyes fixed on some distant thought.

Adjusting his crumpled coat and straightening his shoulders, Mr. Collins headed toward the coachman's seat.

Meanwhile, inside the carriage, poor Elizabeth – who had given up trying to explain to her aunt- had to put up with Lady Bennet's rants on how this was the first time she had been this disappointed on a journey.

"Now we'll get delayed!" Her aunt complained, "It'll be well past four by the time we reach Meryton! Oh Lizzie!? How can you sit so quiet child? Aren't you the least bit worried!? Oh but then again, you have no experience let alone any idea about the world. There'll be highwaymen and robbers and god-knows-what after dark! And there isn't a respectable Inn for miles! Oh think what will happen to us Lizzie!"

While all this was true, Elizabeth knew their situation was much worse.

"Oh…" sighed her aunt, throwing her head back into the cushions in agony. Then rising up again, exclaimed, "Where is Mr. Collins? Tell him to hurry up! Mr C-o-l-l-i-n-s!!!!" she screamed causing Charleston to howl.

"Simon!" Barked her ladyship "What are you standing there for!? Tell Mr. Collins to hurry up!"

"That's alright, I'll go." Elizabeth said rising from her seat.

"Sit down child! You'll catch cold." commanded her untiring aunt.

"Nana, it's hardly raining. I won't be long."

After much argument, Lady Bennet finally gave in to her niece and making sure Elizabeth had her shawl wrapped up to her pink little nose, sent her out to fetch Mr. Collins.

"Mr. Collins?" Elizabeth cried in her light voice as she approached the front coach-seat.

"Mr-"

She stopped when she saw a lump on the ground. A familiar figure clad in a great coat with many pockets: It was Mr. Collins, lying with his face in the mud. Approaching the body with unsure steps, she kneeled by its side and turned it over. He was breathing. Letting out a sigh of relief, she tried to wake him up, but in vain. Running back to the carriage, she asked her aunt for her bottle of smelling salts. Lady Bennet was exploding with questions, but Elizabeth promised her it was nothing, that she was only feeling faintish and ran back to Collins.

Opening the bottle with some difficulty, she held it to his nostrils and jerked back when they quivered a bit.

"Simon!"

The boy arrived at her side.

"Hold this bottle, like this, to Mr. Collins nose, while I go and speak to Paul."

"B-But miss…"

Elizabeth had already thrust the bottle towards Simons shivering hands and walked to the front coach-seat….only to find it empty.

"Paul!?" She called out. _Maybe he really needed to 'go'._ She thought. _But then again, why was he taking so long?_ Crossing to the other side out the road, she peeped in-between the foliage but couldn't see anyone.

"Paul!?" She yelled once more.

Minutes passed in silence.

Giving up, she turned around to face the road they had travelled along and froze in her boots.

There, lying in the middle of all the mud and rock, lay Paul.

Dead.


	4. Chapter 4

Old Mrs. Barrow was a retired widow who was quite content with her life. She had performed her duty and married off both her daughters and her son- who was sent at a very early age to live with a friend as they couldn't afford it- was a sailor in the Navy.

That evening, it had begun to thunder loudly and Mrs. Barrow rushed in to the back yard to take the wash of the clothes line. While she was removing the pegs, she thought about business and how poorly it was going. Her customers were getting fewer by the hour. The Inn was in a shabby state. It needed a lot of repairing but at the moment she didn't have any money to spare. "Oh Mr. Barrow," she said aloud, "If only you were alive…you'd have done the repairing yourself." Sighing, she took down the last stocking and folded it on top of the pile. Placing one hand on her hip and the other around the laundry basket, she made her way back indoors.

By five o'clock it was raining quite heavily. Mrs. Barrow sat in her room upstairs, by the hearth with her little feet placed upon a stool. Percy, the cook was making a stew and the smell of beef broth filled the lower regions of The Poppyrock. _Tonight it will be just us again _she thought bitterly. _Soon we'll be closing this place up…all the better if I just sell it right away. _She reached for 'The Times and flipped to the 'Property' page. _I'll have to contact-_

_What was that noise?_

Throwing the newspaper aside, Mrs. Barrow heaved her plump body of the armchair and scurried to the window. It was raining so hard that she couldn't make out anything at first. Everything just looked like a blur. _Wait…was it a….? _Out of curiosity, she undid the catch and lock and flung open the window, bathing herself at the same time. When her little eyes fell upon the port chaise parked below, just outside the Inn, a throttle of hysterical laughter escaped her lips and she did a little dance right there in her parlour. Then she took the miniature portrait of late Mr. Barrow which she always kept safely hidden in her skirt pockets and bestowed upon it more kisses than he had received when alive.

_Oh my dear __Mr. Barrow! We are saved!_

Running downstairs to receive her guests herself, she found them already welcomed into the hall by Peter. The little party consisted of two gentlemen and two- very fashionable- women (one considerably older than the other), followed by a scrawny-looking boy with slumped shoulders. The taller gentlemen- a lieutenant or something of the sort- looked soaked to the bone and Mrs. Barrow immediately offered to take of his cloak and ushered him off to the fireside. Both ladies looked extremely pale and weary. Without speaking a word, the younger lady (presumably, the middle-aged woman's daughter), took off her damp shawl and handed it over to Peter. Her mother surveyed the Inn with pursed lips and her face broke into a frown. The other gentleman- he had to be a clergyman- took of his wide-brimmed hat and cleared his throat.

"May I speak with the Inn-keeper?" he asked as if guilty of breaking the death-like silence.

"Well you're speaking to her." Mrs. Barrow continued cheerfully, "Mrs. Barrow, Inn-keeper of The Poppyrock, How d'you do? Make yourself comfortable."

Leaning close to the merry widow, Mr. Collins whispered something in her ear which caused her to go, "Oh…Oh my goodness..why..yes, I understand..I'll send a note to Mr. Higgins immediately."

**Note: ****Yes my updating is very irregular as I've been covered up to my eyeballs with essays to write….nywys,I might have got a bit carried away with the plot line here hehe…..but pls review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Yes it's been quite a while since I last updated…bt pls read review! :) **

**Note: There was some problem after I uploaded this document…there seems to be too much spacing between sentences…pls ignore it…**

After taking leave of his grateful new friends and casually giving them his card- he had heard about the Bennets and Miss Bennet, though in want of a little colour, was not all that bad-looking since she was to inherit a hundred thousand pounds when she turned five and twenty- the young lieutenant mounted on his horse and left The Poppyrock, still not quite over the unusual turn of events.

It had been a stormy evening but now the rain had subsided. Mrs. Barrows had made sure he was completely dry before he took off.

_It must be fate _thought our young lieutenant as he galloped down the muddy road, _Heck, it's not everyday you run into an- blasted! I completely forget…_

It was already half past seven and Tom, his client would have already arrived at Rustford hall about an hour ago.

_Oh hang it, I'll call him tomorrow._

So instead of hurrying home, he made a turn and headed instead for The Pipe, a famous gentleman's club in Meryton.

The rules of the club had somewhat slackened over the past few years; one of the principal reasons for its remarkable popularity.

The club was bursting with inebriated young men that night. Music rang through its walls and shouts filled every corner.

At one corner of the club- or rather pub- a group of bosky young military men had gathered round a table, betting over a fist fight.

"Come on Charles, knock 'im d-dead!"

"Yes man, don't be such a lilly-livered-"

"Eh-look, it's Captain Miles!" shouted a hefty fellow with an orange moustache standing near one of the windows. The crowd hushed for a second and doomed expressions were silently exchanged.

"Wait a minute… Ah, it's only just George!"

A sigh of relief was breathed through each mouth and the young fellows continued their drunken activities.

George entered the club looking rather pale but nevertheless, as trim as ever.

"Georgie how are you man!?" exclaimed the hefty looking fellow as he pat our lieutenant on the back.

"Yooo're as wet as a-Get you a drink?"

"Henry over here's cleaned out-"

"Shuddup man, at least I didn't lose to Rooney."

Here a roar of laughter erupted, shaking the floorboards.

"Well still, I got enough *blunt of my own." said Brian, defending himself before resuming to his friend, "Well George, you're as pale as death, here swallow this up, it'll do you good."

"Are you going to play a round?"

"Nah, no man, not today…" George trailed off as he walked towards one of the windows.

"S'anything wrong?"

George just continued to stare outside as if his friend hadn't spoken.

"Brian," he spoke all of a sudden, not taking his eyes off the dark sky outside, "Do you know the Bennets?"

Brian looked at his friend confusedly.

"I meant the Bennets of Homerstott."

"Ofcourse. Mighty name. Why d'ya ask?"

"I ran into them."

"I'll be damned…come come, enough with this nonsense, next thing you'll be saying, 'I met Lady Whitacross at the fish market'." Brian rang out, unable to contain his laughter.

George looked at his friend, irritated.

"No need to be so angry it was only a joke."

"I am not joking" murmured the lieutenant gravely, "Nor am I in any mood for humour."

Brian looked down at his feet nervously. George was known for his vicious temper. Getting on the wrong side of Mr. Wickham was as bad as being flogged on a bare bottom.

"It was on my way back from Dophtston" continued Mr. George Wickham "…somewhere about in Kernshill I think. I was riding quite fast when all of a sudden, a carriage fell into my view."

*

There was only one candle lit at the Poppyrock that night. It lay, dripping with wax on a writing desk in one of the bedrooms upstairs. A small hand was feverishly writing across the pages of paper. Page after page was flipped effortlessly as the words poured out of her mind. Elizabeth Bennet's- very restless- mind.

_Friday, the 16th_

Dearest Penny,

Oh Penny, you will be thoroughly disappointed when you read this letter. What ill luck has fallen upon us! Our little trip to Bath will have to be delayed. I am currently staying at an Inn on Dunstroad; I believe that is only twenty miles to Meryton from here. But I won't be able to make it tomorrow.

Nana is finally asleep- and so are all the other occupants of this Inn I hope- and Mrs. Barrows (the Innkeeper) has finally quit my room after I reassured her- for the hundredth time- that the bed was heated enough. Mr. Collins too, wisely decided to leave his sermonizing to the brighter hours of the day and retired to his room a few minutes ago. So it is just me and my thoughts. What peace it is to have one's thoughts to oneself at last! It must be around eleven now.

I could not eat dinner at all, though I'm sure the food at least was well prepared. The rooms are quite neglected-to the extent of the wallpaper ripping apart at some places- and the air smells rather damp.

Oh I still shudder when I recall the events of this day. It feels like a chapter out of a book.

We started the journey from Hommerstott in good spirits and I was very much looking forward to meeting you. My mind had already travelled ahead of me and I was thinking of all the delightful things to be done in Bath. After about three hours, when we were somewhere about in Kernshill, the carriage came to an abrupt stop. At first, we thought it was because Paul, the coachman needed to relieve himself. But after a few minutes, when Simon, the servant, flung open the carriage door and stood there as frightened as a lamb, I knew at once something had gone horribly wrong. And I was right. Paul was dead.

Simon described to us how Paul had complained of a pain in his left forearm before he lost all consciousness and rolled of his seat. Mr. Collins confirmed that he had died of a 'stroke'. He said that it was quite common amongst the middle-aged and even if he had been under care, nothing could have been done.

Nana- who was still in the dark about all this- then started to panic, telling us to hurry up as it was getting late. Mr. Collins- who had revived by now- and I exchanged foreboding glances and Simon managed to put into words our unspoken question : "Who was to drive us?"…and worse, how were we to carry Paul? We couldn't just leave him behind! Oh what a wretched group we were! Mr. Collins said he had never driven a carriage though he did ride and Simon, he looked as if he still hadn't recovered from the incident. It was while all three of us were pacing about, deep in thought, that the unmistakable clopping sound of hooves reached my ears. All three of us immediately turned around I beheld a cloaked figure mounted on a black stallion, galloping furiously towards us. At that moment, nana's words echoed in my mind : _"There'll be highwaymen and robbers and god-knows-what after dark!...Oh think what will happen to us Lizzie!"_ Within the folds of his cloak, I could see something glisten. Was it a knife? Or worse, was it a rifle!? But before we had time to flee, the horseman began to slow down and rein his horse. Before I knew it, I had grabbed my reticule- the dear green one I had spent all week knitting- and flung it with all my might towards the highwayman. But he ducked, and it landed on the mud instead. I tried to meet Mr. Collins eyes but the spot where he had been standing was vacant. At the same time nana, who no doubt would have witnessed the whole scene through the carriage window had started moaning in a shrill voice. I stood rooted to the ground as the horseman approached me. I had planned something out in my head; we would negotiate. I would give him my emerald necklace in return for our freedom. It was while I was devising this plan that my eyes flew down to his hand. His gloved fingers were holding on to the strings of my muddied reticule. He stopped in front of me and held my purse out to me. Was he returning it to me? Was it some kind of trick? I had read many stories where ladies were kidnapped by highwayman who pretended to treat them kindly. Doubting his intentions, I snatched my reticule away from his grasp and hid it behind me. At the same time, I heard the faintest chuckle escape his lips. He was laughing at me was he!? Meeting his eyes directly with my own, I was pleasantly surprised as I discovered a few things. His eyes -rather light- were up-turned at the corners, as if amused at something. Unlike the established highwayman, his ears- both his ears- were free of piercing. His hair- which was vermillion and chin length- was neatly combed to the side and his moustache was neatly trimmed, not wildly grown. He was quite handsome. Was he then a gentleman?

He seemed to read my thoughts and bowed saying,

"I am most sorry to have frightened you miss. I believe my intentions are entirely honourable."

His cloak which was partially open, revealed a red uniform beneath. He was in the army- a lieutenant I leant later. Oh how silly I felt that moment!

"Oh! Forgive me, sir. It is I who must apologize for behaving so rudely towards you."

"Do you need any help miss?" he asked looking first at the figure of Paul and then Mr. Collins who was hiding behind the carriage.

I explained to him our situation and he listened gravely. At the end of my account he walked towards one of the horses and exclaimed,

"I have been thinking and I have decided. I will drive you as far as the weather permits me to." He said, looking at the sky which had grown considerably darker." There isn't an Inn for miles and if we do not begin now we might get caught up in the rain- and as for Paul…"

Oh Penny! My candle flickers thin. I will try to summarize.

So we ended up bundling Paul- who was covered in a blanket- on the roof of the carriage by rope; there was no other way. Mr. Collins agreed to ride the black stallion alongside us and Simon sat next to Mr. George Wickham who drove the carriage all the way to the Poopyrock- oh is it Poppyrock?

Ah, my mind is so weary I can hardly remember how to spell!

I must get some rest. It rings twelve!

And lastly, my dear Penny, I hope you aren't very disappointed after you've read this.

Your's truly,

Lizzie

**Note: * blunt = money**


	6. Chapter 6

**Note: Yes it's been a l-o-n-g time before I last updated! But pls bare with me :) and R&R!**

The sun was beaming down on him through the dusty window. A few silky cob webs hanging from the pane glistened in the morning sun. It was a remarkably clear day after yesterday's downpour; the previous night's storm had left nothing of its trace behind. One might almost trust the sun to go on shining eternally.

The last stroke of his brush was applied on to the canvas that lay mounted onto the easel and the skeptical artist viewed his creation from a distance. At first glance, it looked very similar to the portrait that lay perched on another easel on the right. But leaning closer, only a true artist's eye could tell the slight variations. The Duchess of Dosphia nevertheless looked positively angelic reclined on a tuft of white cloud despite the slight differences in the shape of one of her curls. Hardly satisfied, but tired enough, our diligent artist put his brush down and began to clean his palette.

_It would have to do_ he thought.

*

Lady Bennet was confined to her bed chamber that morning, on account of having contracted a nasty head cold. When her niece entered the invalid's bedchamber, it was to find her nana wrapped up in a bundle of sheets with only her little nose peeping out.

"Who is it!?" snapped the bundle of blankets.

"It's only me nana." replied Elizabeth softly as she sat down on the corner of the well-heated bed.

"Oh thank goodness it wasn't _her!"_ continued her ladyship "Why, she won't leave me alone for a minute and had her company been the least bit agreeable I'm sure I wouldn't have minded!"

"Mrs. Barrow is only concerned about your well-being nana. I'm sure she means well. By the way, where is Mr. Collins?" Elizabeth asked changing the topic. The last thing she wanted was for her ladyship to complain about old Mrs. Barrow again.

"Mr. Collins? He left to Meryton- which I say is about thirty miles from here- about six hours ago to meet the funeral director. There isn't one here in Kernshill. I daresay the only other building for miles is the local church! Oh Lizzie, what ill luck has fallen upon us! I won't be surprised if we remain here a week!"

"Surely he won't take that long." spoke Elizabeth encouragingly.

"No child, you don't understand." said her ladyship, shifting into an upright position, "You see, Paul's death was only witnessed by Simon and I'm afraid we can't find any of Paul's relatives to confirm his death and-"

Here, her ladyship was interrupted by a knock on her door.

"Who is it!?"

No sooner had Mr. Collins mumbled his name than he was admitted entrance. Lady Bennet was not one to stand upon ceremony when she was impatient.

When he saw Elizabeth sitting near her aunt, apparently in confidence, he stopped abruptly and began to excuse himself.

"No no! Nevermind! We were only discussing this odious business of yours. Pray remain here and tell me what has happened."

Being obliged by her ladyship to sit on a chair by the fire-place, Mr. Collins thus began,

"Well, I can assure you ma'am that you need not have any more worries. I have obtained the death certificate and all that remains is for me to choose a suitable burial site. I am certain we shall be able to leave Kernshill in a few days, unless your ladyship isn't-"

"Why, that is comforting to know."

"But nana, since we don't have a coachman, who will convey us?"

Elizabeth immediately regretted blurting this out for it sent Lady Bennet from peaceful contentment into the depths of despair.

Shortly, both her niece and Mr. Collins were discharged by her ladyship as she was unable to exert herself any longer and felt the need for rest.

As soon as they were in the corridor, Mr. Collins all of a sudden remembered some small business he had to attend to in the stables and excused himself, leaving Lady Bennet's niece to wander about the Inn alone.

The house was very quiet for once as a result Mrs. Barrows being nowhere in sight. It was barely eleven and the day was already extremely dull.

Sighing, Elizabeth sluggishly trudged down the staircase and dropped her slightly chubby figure onto one of the cushioned sofas.

_Oh I do hope we leave soon!_

*

Glancing one last time at his work and ascertaining that it was dry, the artist rolled up his painting and slid it into a sleek canister which he hung by his shoulder. After quickly looking at himself in the mirror and adjusting his habit shirt and coat, the artist was about to exit his bed chamber when he nearly collided with the youngest member of the family.

"Oh!" gasped a young girl of about fifteen, he face red with exertion.

"Where are you off to again!?" she demanded while panting. "Mama wants everyone down for *tea and and-"

"Lydia, I don't have time."

"But wait! Lady Lucas has come over and she tells us that she thinks the Wickhams are going to hold a ball!!!"

The artist merely blinked down in annoyance at his anxious young sister.

"Oh I really don't understand brothers! All you're concerned about is riding or fishing and when I tell you there is going to be a ball, you act if your breeches are on fire!"

"Lyd-""

"Honestly, you take all the jolliness out of it!"

"Then please excuse me and allow me to pass before I take even more jolliness out of the prospect of going to a ball."

"Oh! How-"

Stamping a slippered foot on the floor and exclaiming some unidentifiable expression, Lydia plonked her way downstairs.

After taking leave of his disinterested mama, the artist or rather, the 'world's dullest bore' as Lydia had christened him on his way out, headed towards the stables. It was quite a clear day in the country. A few birds were crooning to the notes of a distant piano whose sounds could be heard in between the shrieks of laughter- assumably, his mama's. Lady Lucas's carriage was parked just outside the main door. Charlotte, one of her daughters, was presently walking towards the carriage to fetch some ribbons she had bought on the way. Thankfully, she did not see him. He knew she would have guessed something was wrong with his countenance. Or worse, Charlotte-being an inquisitive and determined young lady- would have bore him down with questions as to his business. The last thing he wanted was to strike up a conversation with Lady Lucas's eldest daughter and so the tall artist was obliged to quickly disappear behind the house and hurry towards the stables.

Having reached the stables within a minute, he singled out his favourite horse, a mahogany coloured stallion and mounted on him.

"Well Sneaky," he spoke while affectionately patting the horse's back.

"We've got another take. Do you think we can handle it?"

For a moment, the artist looked down in apprehension at the canister that hung across his shoulder. But when Sneaky neighed impatiently, he immediately pushed all unpleasant thoughts aside and smiled.

"Yes yes, you're right. No time for worrying now. It's a fine day for riding and I can say that we've earned this, no matter how wretched a business it may seem."

******* Morning tea**


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: Hmmm…yes I've decided to go wild with the plot line…hehe ;p**

**Pls R&R! All positive/negative comments are welcome!**

Rustford hall stood majestically on an estate of an astonishing 20 acres. It had gone into the late Mr. Wickham's- who was a tea merchant- possession twenty years ago after the death of his only remaining brother. He had two sons; Frank and George. Frank had taken after his father's business in importing tea from the island of *Ceylon and George, who had joined the army some years ago, had recently been promoted to the post of lieutenant. Widowed Mrs. Wickham favoured her youngest born. George had inherited all his papa's good features – one would say he was the very picture of late Mr. Wickham- and had a lively disposition. He was also quite the gentleman and was responsible for breaking more than a few hearts at London's last season. But he would never contemplate marriage. And his mama would never object; she preferred having her dear George all to herself.

That evening, the young master of Rustford hall was not found to be at home.

"Could you please check again?" inquired the annoyed artist for the second time. "Mr. Wickham asked me to come particularly on this day, at this time and I've come all the way Meryton."

"I am sorry sir, but Master George left three hours ago." replied the cold butler tiredly.

Taking his beret off, the artist let out a frustrated sigh and drove a hand through his tousled hair.

"Did he say where he was headed?"

"No, sir."

Without wasting more time, the he mounted his horse and galloped furiously away.

It was just like George Wickham to keep his friends waiting.

_Might as well visit Aunt __Julia…_

*

Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised to find that Mrs. Barrow, like herself, was an avid reader. She had a pretty little collection in her own room- there being no library- and it afforded Elizabeth much pleasure to be allowed to pick out any she chose.

Having decided on a book, _The Fool's Blunder,_ Elizabeth descended the narrow stairs and entered the little sitting room. She was about to sit down on one of the sofas, when the scene from the window across the room caught her. The sun had dimmed low in the golden sky and its rays illuminated the white heads of the grass flowers that grew in abundance all over the sloping field. At the end of the hill was a small fence, running from one end all the way to the other. It was the perfect picture of serenity.

Elizabeth glanced at the clock.

It was only four 'o clock. Surely it wasn't too late to take a walk? Nana was asleep and Mrs. Barrows had taken after her ladyship a few minutes ago.

Without further procrastination Elizabeth withdrew to her room and alighted from it a few minutes later, with a beige shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

_A little stroll would do me some good after all these hours trapped in a stuffy inn!_ thought Elizabeth as she turned the handle of the backdoor.

It was very breezy and refreshing outside. Perfect weather to enjoy a book. She could hear the chickens clucking merrily from the barn to her right. A cat was perched on a potato sack, its eyes fixed resolutely on the chicken coop, waiting for the opportune moment to sneak in and steal an unfortunate hen's egg.

Elizabeth strode past the lively backyard and stepped into the luscious fields. There was no one out at this time. She was anxious if nana might be able to see her but she knew that her aunt's room was on the other side, overlooking the road and stopped worrying. And Mrs. Barrow wouldn't make such a fuss of her going out like this.

It was after all such a cheerful day after yesterday's awful down pour. Who could possibly stay cooped up indoors?

The warm wind tugged at her hair, making it fly in all directions. _I must look positively monstrous! _thought Elizabeth laughing as she reflected how she had rushed out without arranging her hair, _Oh who gives a fig!_ _It isn't as if there is anyone out here._

Shielding her eyes against the sun, she walked on for a few minutes. Thousands of fallen leaves which had been neatly swept up into piles were beginning to blow all over the place. _What wasted effort!_ thought Elizabeth as she opened to the first page of the book. The story was interesting and before long Elizabeth's thoughts were focused entirely on the developing relationship between heroine of the novel and the dashing Lord Grant. Little did she realise that it was nearly more than an hour since she started. When she finally looked up from the book, Elizabeth was startled to find herself within arm's reach of the never-ending fence she had seen from the sitting-room window. Behind the fence was dense woodland which seemed to stretch on for miles. Turning around, she nearly gasped at the distance she had come.

The Poppyrock looked much smaller than she had imagined. Glancing at the sky, Elizabeth grew a bit nervous. The sun had descended and it was beginning to grow quite dark. She would have to hurry if she wanted to make it before dusk. Had she really been out for more than an hour!? She looked down in a frown at her book as if that- and not her curiosity- was what had kept her out so long. Letting out a sigh, Elizabeth quickly smoothed out her hair and was about to walk back when she heard a branch crack. Instinctively, she swung around. Her eyes scanned the wood but it was so dense that she could not perceive anything. _Surely it must be just a squirrel _thought Elizabeth and erased any apprehensive thoughts from her mind. But hardly had she taken two steps towards the Inn when she heard it again. Much louder this time.

She spun around and glanced at the forest with wide eyes, daring it to creak again. While she was challenging the trees, a gate, in the middle of the fence which she had never noticed before, caught her attention. It was covered with moss and apparently led on to a narrow dirt path, which carved its way straight through the thick forest.

Temptation and curiosity getting the better of Lady Bennet's adventurous niece, Elizabeth quickly pushed the gate and jumped back as it squeaked open.

_What are you doing?_ Elizabeth scowled herself, _Shouldn't you be heading back? What if nana has woken up? _But her ladyship's niece would be restless until she had discovered the source of that noise. So, armed with weapon – or rather book- in her hand, our fearless heroine entered the forest.

It was very dark and rather damp inside. Elizabeth had to lift her dress a few inches to avoid it getting muddy. The skeletal trees which lined the track seemed to grow forever, extending their white twisted branches upwards towards the violet sky. Every now and then, she would have to stoop to avoid her hair getting tangled in some protruding branches. It seemed as if this route was not used anymore, for it hardly contained any tracks. A few bats flew past Elizabeth making her stumble over a broken twig. Arranging her skirts, she began to pick up her pace when all of a sudden, she heard the noise again. Pausing, Elizabeth held her breath and searched through the undergrowth with her darting eyes, but it was too thick to make out anything. Letting out a frustrated sigh, our determined heroine continued to walk.

After nearly a minute or so of plodding, during which period, Elizabeth's eyes had been focused on the ground, there being an ample amount of branches scattered about to trip on, she looked up to check where she was and froze in her boots. Hanging off a rope from one of the branches a few yards away was the dead body of a pig.

Elizabeth's mouth hung open but her throat was far too dry to allow any scream to escape. Also, she thought it would be unwise to attract any attention towards her by doing so. Instead, Lady Bennet's determined niece struggled to regain her composure and dared as far to approach the carcass. It was attracting a lot of flies and by the repulsive odour given off, it had to be rotting. _Who could have done this and why? _Anger overcoming her fear, Elizabeth covered her nose with her shawl and carefully made her way around the pig to resume her walk. _Had the village boys done it as some kind of horrid joke for people who crossed this path? But then again, she doubted if anyone used this track… _Lost in thought, Elizabeth turned around and looked at the ground directly below the pig and saw that it was covered with a pile of dead leaves. _Was it then some kind of trap? _Elizabeth had picked up a pebble and was about to throw it at the pile of leaves when all of a sudden she heard a noise. Looking up, nearly all her blood ran cold, for standing just a few metres away was a specter sight: a tall figure clad in a large floating cloak with a sword in his hand stood at the end of the path ready to drain Elizabeth's soul. Letting out a blood curdling scream, our fearless heroine flung her book on the ground and darted towards the gate. However, she was not able to make it very far for when she ducked to avoid hitting the carcass, she misplaced her footing.

"Look out miss!"

But it was too late.

*** Sri Lanka (Sri Lanka was called Ceylon, before it won its independence in 1948.)**


	8. Chapter 8

Elizabeth was lying in a hole, six feet deep.

Surprisingly, she wasn't hurt as she had landed on a mass of ferns.

The hole smelled funny and she yelled as she saw an earthworm squiggle its way up the wall of mud.

She was still too dumbfounded to think straight but a sound nearby made her look up.

A face peeped over the edge. It was the apparition. A rather human-like spirit wearing a strange hat. Its features were indistinguishable in the dark and presently it spoke in a clear, deep voice.

"Are you alright Miss?"

The phantom looked at her curiously and laughed.

Fortunately, Lady Bennet's niece had the wits to realize that she had horridly confused an obliging young man for a specter, though she couldn't exactly point when the miraculous transformation had taken place. For one thing, ghouls certainly did not address their victims in that manner.

He saw her doubtful expression and apologized,

"I'm sorry miss. It's just that this trap has never caught anything quite human-like before. I guess the wolves were too smart. Forgive me, may I have the honour of knowing my captive's name?"

_Was he calling her stupid!?_

"Are you in the habit of trapping innocent young ladies in holes and interrogating them, sir?" Elizabeth asked, indignantly.

The young man met her heated question with up-turned eyes and a quiver about his mouth.

"Hardly miss. But you must admit it is easier to get 'innocent young ladies' to converse with you when they are six feet below the ground."

_Oh what an impertinence! _thought Elizabeth._ Is he going to question me all day long!? And I hardly know him!_

Elizabeth stamped her foot and threatened,

"If you won't leave me alone this instant, I shall scream for all of Kernshill to hear and when the villagers come running, I shall blame you for throwing me in."

Her fear and nervousness made her sound angrier than she actually was.

To her irritation, he regarded her amusedly and chuckled.

"That won't be necessary miss. You shall save your breath for more genteel conversation once I help you up,"

"What gave you the notion that I should allow you to help me up? How do I know I can trust you?" asked Elizabeth naively.

"Well miss, for one thing I don't intend to kidnap you and hold you for ransom if that is what you were suggesting…" here he paused, clearly enjoying his victim's impatience, "and I don't think you are left with much of a choice. I can't leave you here and summon help. The wolves would have devoured you by then."

Elizabeth grudgingly admitted to herself that this little speech did make a lot of sense. Also, she didn't have any other options and it was also already very late. Oh that she had never gotten herself into this in the first place!

Sighing, Elizabeth reluctantly gave her hand to the loathsome young man and was pulled out.

She staggered onto her feet and dusted her muddied dress. It was slightly torn above her right foot, revealing an inch of stocking, but other than that, she wasn't scratched. Elizabeth cringed as she thought about the rage nana would be in. She would have to come up with a feasible explanation.

"I think you must have dropped this er, on your way out."

She looked up and saw that he was holding _The Fool's Blunder _in his hand.

"Oh, yes."

She took the book and for a moment neither said anything.

"Thank you…for your assistance, sir." she forced herself to say at last and then introduced herself, "Elizabeth Bennet."

"Nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet. Mr. Darcy." he nodded by way of introducing himself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: Merry Christmas everyone! :) Hope u have a swingin' time! **

That evening, the mistress of Farlington lay seated by the fire, immersed in embroidering a cushion cover. The light was quite dim and her neck was aching but what were such trivial knick-knacks when she was almost done with her last cushion cover!? Penelope sat across her mother, head in her hands, and deep in thought. It wasn't like her to remain still for more than five minutes at a time but she was very anxious about Elizabeth. What had happened? Why hadn't she arrived on time? Was there an accident!? _Oh! How could mama be so unmoved!? _She trembled as she thought of an unpleasant scene when Mrs. Limpsy the indifferent housekeeper tapped at the door and walked in with a silver tray in a hand. Perched on the tray, like a slice of seed cake, ready to be devoured, was a sleek envelope.

"A letter for you miss." said the housekeeper a monotonous tone as she stood in front of Miss Brompton.

Penelope's eyes widened and a sigh of relief escaped her lips as she saw who it was from. _Oh Lizzie! You aren't dead!_

Tearing of the seal in hurried manner, she opened the letter and moaned in horror. It was cross-written! Quite unlike Lizzie to write in that manner. The words were so crowded that it was impossible to make out anything. Sighing, Penelope got up and walked towards the hearth. She held the letter towards the fire and struggled to read it.

In about a minute, Miss Brompton had managed to reread the letter and ascertain herself of its horrifying contents.

_Staying at a rundown Inn such as that! It would be insupportable!_

"What is it Penny dearest?"

"It's L-Lizzie, mama. She's alright! Their coachman died on the way and they had to put up at an Inn in Kernshill! And wait till you here the condition of the rooms! Oh, we must send a carriage for her mama, we must!"she insisted.

Mrs. Brompton paused her stitching for a moment and said in her usual calm manner, "But it is too late. And Kernshill is twenty miles north. It would be well past supper by the time it reaches them."

Penelope threw her hands about hastily and exclaimed, "But mama, listen to what she says! And oh, I would feel very bad about it. Why else has she written!? And in such haste! Her handwriting is hardly intelligible. It is not at all like Lizzie to cross-write! She obviously needs help!"

Penelope's mother smiled a bit at the girl's devotion to her bosom friend. So very much like Hugh! He would do anything for one of his mates!

"Penny, I am not saying we shouldn't help them. We could send a carriage early next morning. I'm sure Elizabeth and Lady Bennet wouldn't mind a few hours delay."

Penelope sighed but her frown slightly cleared.

"I suppose you are right, mama."

Having come to an agreement with her strong-willed daughter, Mrs. Brompton returned to her cushion cover and Penelope exited the drawing room to her bedchamber, with the letter in her hand.

*

The Poppyrock was very quiet that evening. It hadn't rained yet and the lack of gloomy clouds looked quite promising.

"Miss Bennet!" cried the Inn Keeper energetically as she knocked on her door for the third time.

_Is she asleep?_

Lady Bennet had asked for her niece a few minutes ago and Mrs. Barrows was now starting to grow a bit worried as her last knock remained unanswered.

_Has she taken ill!?_

Without wasting any more time, Mrs. Barrows placed her round hand on the knob and turned it.

To her surprise, the bedchamber was unoccupied!

_Where on Earth is she? Surely she couldn't have run away! But having an aunt such as that! So over-bearing and controlling! I wouldn't blame the poor girl. Wait a minute-_

Mrs. Barrows paused as she heard voices nearby.

Rushing out of Miss Bennet's room, she stooped over the second-floor railing and blew a sigh of relief.

"Oh Miss Bennet!" she exclaimed while hurrying downstairs,

"Why, where have you been! I was beginning to get worried about you dear. Her ladyship has been- FitzWilliam!!! Oh, what a surprise!" she cried with joy as her eyes fell on the tall form of Rosalind's first born. "I wasn't expecting you! But ah, it's just like you to drop by with no warning! Oh, I see you have met Miss Bennet! But what are you doing standing in the cold!? Come! Come inside!" She gestured for her nephew and Elizabeth to follow her to the little sitting room.

"Well well! And how is my favourite nephew!?" asked Mrs. Barrows light-heartedly as they took a seat.

"I'm afraid I'm not such a favourite with my mama as I'm with you. It is pleasing to know I still remain your treasured nephew even though it's been nearly two months since I last visited. After all, you are kind to everyone you meet!" Mr. Darcy replied brightly.

"Nonsense! Just listen to him Miss Bennet- Oh, oh my dear!? What happened to you!?" she asked, quite shocked as her eyes fell on the ruined attire of Elizabeth for the first time.

Elizabeth blushed for a moment and replied demurely that she had accidentally fallen into a wolf trap while taking a 'casual stroll' in the woods.

"Oh-Oh dear! I did not see you go outside. I should have warned you but I didn't see you go out! Thank Goodness you are alright! But, how did you get out? Did you not summon for help?" asked Mrs. Barrows curiously. _They had entered together....._

"You have to thank your favourite nephew for rescuing me."

"Why, Miss Bennet, you are no better than my flattering aunt. If it hadn't been such a remarkable _coincidence, _I myself should have considered the act heroic. There is nothing daring about having appeared at the right place at the right time." said Mr. Darcy.

"Oh pots and pans! No need to despair Fitzwilliam. No one called you a hero!" Mrs. Barrows teased, "In all cases, I am thankful nothing harmful happened! Though I must admit it is quite extraordinary you chanced to be in the same path Will! Well well, you better go up now and change Miss Bennet. Don't want her ladyship to see you like this! She asked for you a short while ago."

Elizabeth excused herself and quitted the little sitting room.

On her way out, Elizabeth thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye and when she turned to her right to perceive what it was she was quite intrigued. It was the Mr. Darcy's canister. She was a bit curious as she had noticed he was quite reluctant to ponder on the subject of his painting. She had asked him about it on the way back to the Inn but he had clearly been uncomfortable talking about it and kept changing the subject. Was it unfinished? But then surely he would not be carrying it around. Nana had once told her that well-bred young ladies were never nosy. But oh how her curiosity itched and fingers burned! Making sure the coast was clear, Elizabeth gently lifted the black container off the cabinet and began to remove its lid. It was quite difficult to open it, but once she did, she placed the lid noiselessly on the cupboard and carefully took the roll of canvas out. When her eyes fell on the painting, she gasped and nearly dropped it in horror. T_he Duchess of Dosphia!_ Oh! It was one of the most notorious paintings ever made of that vulgar woman. Why, she scarcely had any clothes on! _For shame! _She was a famous courtesan and had recently married the Duke of Dosphia- whose wife had recently passed away- after reports of their scandalous affair. Before she had married, while she was not being courted, artists would often use her as a model for their paintings. But this particular painting was the most disgraceful ever made! It was rumoured that the portrait was burned in order to prevent it from being copied and that the public were forbidden to buy it. All of a sudden, Elizabeth froze as a sudden thought occurred to her. _Because there was only one original painting, if it wasn't in truth, burned. And the public were banned from making copies. Surely this couldn't be the original. Surely Mr. Darcy couldn't have s-stolen it!? But even if one had to make a copy…why…they would have to get hold of the original! And that was banned! _Ohit was a most vexing matter indeed!

Hardly had Elizabeth heard voices approaching than she had managed to replace the painting and place the canister back on the cabinet.

"Oh Miss Bennet!" cried Mrs. Barrows as she entered the narrow corridor.

"Why, I thought you had gone upstairs to change your dress!"

Mr. Darcy followed his aunt into the dimly lit passage and regarded Elizabeth casually.

"Oh, uh, my boots had got untied and I was just lacing them back again." Just as she said this, she looked down and to her horror, saw that one of her boots was indeed untied and she quickly hid that foot under her dress. Oh what a bad liar she was! Hopefully Mr. Darcy hadn't noticed.

"Well, anyway," continued the Inn Keeper as she turned to her astute nephew who was eyeing the canister suspiciously, "I was telling you Fitzwilliam, you should stay for dinner and leave on the morrow. I'm sure your mother would not mind the least! Also, I'm quite certain Miss Bennet would enjoy a bit of company her own age too!"

Here, Mrs. Barrows looked cheerfully at Elizabeth, causing her to say meekly,

"Oh, y-yes, please do."

But he had to go as his mama would be worried since he hadn't informed her. He then quickly took his leave of his urging aunt and a blushing Elizabeth promising he would stay for dinner some other time. Grabbing the canister, he bid them good night one last time and ventured out into the darkness.

**Note: Yes...I've mutilated the plot in a slaughtering frenzy..hehe...but hey...it's fanfiction! Who wants to stick to the main storyline? p.s. Pls read and review! All negative or positive comments are welcome.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: L-o-n-g time! I know…..but I've been really busy..nyways, pls R&R! **

"Sometimes I feel sorry for the boy." said Mrs. Barrows as they turned back to the corridor.

"Rosalind, his mother is so busy with the task of settling down her daughters- she has four- that she often overlooks Will's affairs. And he's six and twenty! A ripe young age! It is unfortunate he isn't blessed with good looks like the rest of the family for his character is immaculate! It is rare you find a more good-natured, noble young man nowadays. Why, the high streets are filled with fashionable dandies strutting around like pompous chickens! Don't think I don't know what it's like! I've often journeyed to Bath and London myself. Why, when Augusta and Katy came out I made it my duty to take them to town. Oh but how seldom did I come across a decent young gentleman which I could wish for as a son-in-law! And I didn't even have such high requirements! Luckily for my daughters, they are both happily settled now. Thank Goodness for that! I daresay, if I had a third daughter, I should have gone mad! I don't know how Rosalind manages it!"

Elizabeth listened silently to this meditation at the end of which she left to her room to get changed.

Mr. Darcy occupied most of Elizabeth's thoughts that evening. Partly beacause she was obliged to think of him during dinner when Mrs. Barrows- who was dusting a few ornaments on a side table- brought his name up but mainly because there was nothing better she loved than a mystery. She thought him amiable enough to be agreeable if it wasn't for his direct nature which caused him to utter contemptuous remarks whenever he felt like it. Why when she had first met him, she thought him a most vexatious young man! Like his aunt had said, he certainly was not handsome. His jaw was rather too square and his nose was quite clumsy. His complexion was also somewhat dark. The only feature which made him stand out was his considerable height-which was over six feet. He was also quite lean, though by no means elegant. And worse, he wore his hair in that ridiculous manner! Allowing his floppy brown locks to fall over his forehead and ears! Why it made him look exactly like a clown. Well, since he was an artist, Elizabeth thought she could excuse his peculiar taste. She would have almost thought him ugly if it weren't for those animated eyes which made him look as though he were secretly laughing at some private joke all the time.

But now, she began to doubt Mr. Darcy's character. _Why on Earth was he carrying such a painting around? Was it for someone? Had someone paid him to do it?_ Maybe he was right when he said Mrs. Barrows flattered him far too much. Far too much to deserve such praise.

"Lizzy dear, you look quite flushed." Elizabeth suddenly looked up and blinked back at her aunt whose existence she seemed to have forgotten.

"Did you take cold while you were asleep? Did you leave your window open!? Oh how many times have I told you….."

Elizabeth had got her nana to believe that she had been asleep the whole evening. It wasn't difficult convincing her ladyship since she had confined to her room all day.

"Well, today I've arranged the burial site for Paul in the local cemetery." Mr. Collins said once her ladyship had finished lecturing on the dangers of leaving a window open.

"And I believe we should be able to leave on the morrow if no problems occur. My dear Miss Bennet, your plate is quite empty. Would you like me to carve you some roast?"

"No--no thank you Mr. Collins."

"Oh, I can't wait to get out of this place!" Lady Bennet cried bitterly, "I feel suffocated in here. The ventilation is very poor! The entire building is in utter disrepair! Oh that I had post-poned the trip!"

Mrs. Barrows turned at this remark but said nothing.

Elizabeth saw signs of a frown gathering on the Innkeeper's brow. She knew how much effort Mrs. Barrows had put, to impress her guests. But nana was blind to the exertions of these good people and saw only her own woes.

"Oh, but I must admit, the stew is very good!" Elizabeth said, hoping to lift the kind widow's spirits.

Mrs. Barrows turned around and stated proudly, "It was my grandmother's recipe. One of our family's best kept secrets!"

"I say Mrs. Barrows," said Mr. Collins abruptly, "I simply must comment on that ornament you have there in your hand."

Mrs. Barrows looked surprised.

"This one?" she asked looking down at the tawdry little vase in her palm.

"Yes. I have a larger, and much grander one of course at home. I was just picturing to myself how lovely your little one would look next to my big vase. But then of course it would be wrong of me to do so since it is yours, but might I ask where you purchased such a fine specimen?"

"Oh…well, to tell the truth, it was one of Mr. Barrows old friends, a merchant, who gave it to him as a gift." replied Mrs. Barrows.

"Oh, I see." spoke Mr. Collins, visibly disheartened.

Then quickly regaining his composure at a sudden thought, he asked expectantly, "But would you be so kind as to allow me to examine it?"

"Why of course." replied the surprised Innkeeper.

Mrs. Barrows handed the miniature vase to the hands of a very excited Mr. Collins who immediately took out his magnifying glass- which he carried for that purpose only- and started to inspect the finer grooves in the wood.

"Hmm…ah…."

Mrs. Barrows watched in fascination as he observed the various etchings made on the vase. She had never thought it that valuable! Why it was such an ugly black thing!

"I must say……."

Mrs. Barrows leaned her ears toward Mr. Collins, awaiting the results of his thorough assessment.

"This is genuine ebony."

Was that all!?

"And what do the carvings represent?" asked the Innkeeper quite vexed that his study of her ornament hadn't found out anything else.

"Oh. Nothing. I was just observing the fine patterns in the wood. I take great pleasure in examining the delicate features of certain ornaments. It is actually a hobby of mine. You should try it yourself though I daresay you are not in possession of a viewing glass. In fact, I would encourage more people to do so. It allows the mind to reach a higher level of understanding and also soothe oneself." He replied.

Elizabeth struggled to prevent herself from erupting into a fit of unladylike laughter and had to cough twice into her napkin to prevent from doing so. She scolded herself quietly for being amused at such a stupid thing. But the very idea of Mrs. Barrows examining old pieces of wood with a magnifying glass! Oh, as if she didn't have better work to do!

At the end of dinner, all three guests rose from their seats and retired to their rooms.

By this time, Mr. Darcy had reached Wenstop, a small village ten miles from Longbourn-where he lived. It had begun raining hard and he had decided to take shelter under a bridge. There were several other riders who had done the same but none he recognized. He looked down at the canister which he covered with his coat and sighed. Anger seeped into his veins and his grip around the canister tightened as he thought of Wickham's careless attitude. He also thought of Elizabeth. Had she seen it? While rewinding his thoughts back to the Poppyrock, a smile spread on his lips. How startled she had looked! Like a frozen deer! He was certain she must have at least attempted to get a peek at the painting. There was a child-like curiosity which became her. Why else would she have ventured into the woods alone? He couldn't think of any lady in his acquaintance who would have done so. But even if she did happen to catch a glimpse of the painting, he knew she wouldn't say a word. At least he hoped so.

The rain began to lessen and without wasting any more time, Mr. Darcy swung atop his horse and headed home.


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning, Elizabeth woke up to the noise of activity nearby. It was already quite late and she quickly dressed by herself and headed downstairs.

"Oh Lizzie, where have you been!?" retorted Lady Bennet who stood at the foot of the stairs with Charleston in her arms.

Before her niece had time to reply, her ladyship continued, "But never mind that. Mr. Collins has finished the last of the funeral duties and… Well, it's good news for us! What do you think? The Bromptons have sent their carriage to convey us to their home! And a coachman to drive our own chaise. Perfect timing isn't it?"

And with those joyful words, suitcases and boxes were packed and stacked in a flurry of activity and the three guests bade farewell to The Poppyrock.

"Well I guess it's all over for us now." said Mrs. Barrows as she saw the last chaise disappear over the hill.

"But they p-paid sich a handsome amount; you could use it tuh repayer the place." suggested Barnes, the cook who stood next to the Innkeeper.

"Mmmhm…But I'll miss that child."

"Miss Bennet? Yes, she was kind to us."

After a few minutes of silence, Mrs. Barrows clapped her hands and said, "Right! No time to idle around. Better go inside now. We have work to do!"

*

It was a fine morning after yesterday's downpour. The sky was clear and the air was filled with the sweet scent of Lavender which grew in abundance at the backyard of Mrs. Darcy's home in Longbourn. However, this peacefulness could only be expected to be observed from the outside.

"Georgie!!!!!!!!!!" shrieked Lydia as she realized her older sister had borrowed a bonnet without permission. A brand _new_ bonnet.

Running downstairs, she nearly collided with her brother who was flipping through a volume.

"Have you seen Georgie!?"

"You just missed her. She went out with Miss Lucas a few minutes ago."

Lydia's eyes widened at this outrageous behavior of her sister and she let out a strangled cry.

"Well, I wouldn't be so angry if I were you Liddie. That bonnet was rather plain."

Lydia's rapid breathing began to slow down as Mr. Darcy coaxed her. Very little persuasion or effort was required to change her ever-fluctuating mind and at the moment, after thinking for awhile, she calmly said, "I suppose you are right. It was such a plain thing after all! And I think it suited Georgie better…..for she is plain too!"

Feeling much better after this statement she headed back upstairs, humming a tune.

Mr. Darcy shook his head and continued to read when Claire, a maidservant came in and announced that a Mr. Bingley had arrived.

A few moments later, a young man of about five and twenty, entered the morning room, brightening the atmosphere at once with his cheerful manner. He was of medium height, and well built. And he was also responsible for breaking not a few hearts at the previous assembly.

"Fitzwilliam! How are you, man? It's been quite a while hasn't it!?" he exclaimed while patting his friend on the arm.

"I stopped by yesterday evening but you weren't at home. Been out and about eh?"

"Uh, yes, I've been quite busy. It's not easy."

"It isn't easy painting!?" cried Mr. Bingley in disbelief. "Why, for someone as talented as you, it should be as easy as squat! Come man, you're not looking like yourself at all. Talk it over a drink?"

"Nah, I'm alright." replied Mr. Darcy "Just having some trouble with-"

"Wickham? I supposed so-"

"No, it's not as bad as you think."

"Really but you're effort at appearing optimistic would put a dead fish to shame."

"Charles!" exclaimed Mr. Darcy, overcome with laughter.

"What? I was only saying that-"

"We should have a drink?"

Mr. Bingley nodded seriously and got up to follow his friend in to the drawing room. _Something was wrong… _

*

The smiling girl in the mirror wore a light-blue bonnet and a dress to match. The reflection placed a hand on its round chin and looked critically at itself. She tilted her head this way and that and after some thought an idea lit up her blue eyes. "Kitty, go down and fetch my ribbon basket will you?" asked the girl in the mirror.

"You do it Kitty! Can't you see I'm busy!?"

"But it's your *bonnet."

"But you're borrowing it!"

"And I'm going to fix it for you!! If you'll bring me my ribbons."

Lydia continued working in silence and decided to ignore her sister.

"I have a white ribbon with blue stripes…it'll go very well with this bonnet." pressed Kitty.

Mary, who was silently observing this little argument from the window seat rolled her eyes and shut her book. _Where on Earth am I going to find any peace!!!?_ she thought as she got up from the seat and adjusted her dress.

On her way out of the room she turned around and said,

"The best way to avoid an argument is for both parties to come to a resolution which involves one side compensating for-"

"But that isn't fair!" cried Lydia who threw the handkerchief she was busy embroidering down on her lap.

"No, it is. When-I mean before- the next argument occurs, the other party has to compensate; you end up taking turns."

"But who's going to keep track of the turns!? And besides, we're not going to have another argument!" cried Lydia.

Mary looked at her sister as if she were denying she were a girl and said calmly, "Whatever you decide, I am leaving your presence. I find it quite impossible to read when you two are yelling at the top of your lungs; arguing over _such _a trivial matter as that; I can almost laugh at it- you have no idea of the greater ordeals of man. Kitty, you should be thankful you have a bonnet to fix- and Lydia, you should be grateful for having three bonnets of your own and an entire wardrobe. There are some of us who do not even have clothes to protect our bodies against the harsh winters. So many poverty-stricken individuals…left on the streets to make homes out of crates…eating the trash of other people. And we, we are blessed with a roof over our heads, warm food and more than enough clothes to wear! We should be thankful to God for looking after us. And be grateful to each other for the company received."

At the end of this speech, a teary-eyed Lydia flew out of the room, breaking into sobs on her way out. Katherine- who was not as easily moved- remained where she was and simply stared out the window.

Mary left the room and descended the stairs, feeling satisfied with herself for educating her younger sisters. Unlike her sisters, Mary was keener on her studies. She was proud of the fact that she was the most accomplished young woman in Longbourn. She could play very fast- although not very melodiously- and had memorized whole paragraphs from philosophical books which she could quote instantly. But even if she was overshadowed by her sisters at times, she never gave up. Every day, she would practice the piano for at least three hours in a row- much to her family's irritation- and teach herself from her father's collection of books. She was determined to do well since she knew her looks could not charm her way into a secure future- when that future could only be attained by marrying well.

"Mary?" A high-pitched voice called out.

She looked left and right but saw no one along the corridor.

"Behind you!"

Turning around she saw Georgina giggling through the open window which led to the backyard.

"Here, could you take these in for me? I'll be spending some time in the garden." she said as she handed some parcels over. "Charlotte wants me to come for tea in the evening. She has a dress she wants to show me; you can come if you like."

"Who is this for?" Mary asked as she caught glimpse of a shiny white material through a small hole in one of the parcels.

"It's for you!"

"Me???"

"Well, I saw it and thought it'd become you very well."

"But it's-"

"You can get it made for a ball. We're also bound to have another assembly soon."

Mary sighed and looked at her elder sister

"But-"

"But you should be grateful to me and accept this little gift from your sister."

"Thank you Georgie."

"There, that's more like it. Oh and I forgot, there's a book in there too—Mr. Oak told me to give it to you. He's been busy and did not have any time to stop by."

Georgina looked for any signs of emotion on her sister's face as she said this but she could only perceive the very faintest of blushes.

"Oh, yes I remember him mentioning it to me a few weeks ago. I never thought he'd actually trouble himself to…" Mary's voice trailed off as she looked inside for the book.

"Well, why don't you come out and help me get some flowers? It's nice outside."

Mary looked up.

"Alright, I'll just keep these."

And she rushed along the corridor, a thrill of warmth running across her body whenever she looked at the book. _He remembered…_

*** A different bonnet**


	12. Chapter 12

"Mr. Bingley!" cried a rather pale-looking Katherine as she entered into the little drawing room.

"I did not know you had come."

Mr. Bingley smiled and said, "Ah well, I have, unless that is objectionable to you-"

"Oh definitely not! Stop teasing me! I've just come to fetch my ribbon basket……Shall, I ring for some tea?"

"No, that's quite alright. I won't be bothering you for that long."

Katherine looked from her brother to Mr. Bingley and felt that they needed privacy so she dutifully excused herself and exited the room. Though of course she did not retire to her room. Instead she whipped right round and glued her ear to the closed door. She had taken a liking towards Mr. Darcy's charming friend ever since she first set eyes on him, which was years ago. Being her brother's close friend, Mr. Bingley was a regular visitor at Longbourn. He lived in Meryton which was only a few miles away and would visit whenever time allowed him, which was often. Charles Bingley was currently on holiday- from studying law at Oxford- and there was much doubt if he would ever graduate as a lawyer. Not because he was careless in his studies but because business at the shop was looking a bit bleak and his family wouldn't be able to afford his further education; there were already enough mouths to feed, him being the second son and third child of a family of eight. Mr. Bingley's father was in the trade business and owned a little shop (Bingley&Co.) in Meryton. He would help his father with the accounts and look to the transportation of goods to and from the local warehouse. Though his future was uncertain, Mr. Bingley was in no way pessimistic about his dreary prospects; he simply did not have the patience to lull over his troubles or indulge- he wouldn't have used the term 'indulge' here- himself in self-pity. He had enough friends- not to mention a horde of admirers- and a kind family. And he was very care-free; at least about his own problems he was.

Presently, his sense of understanding told him that there was something bothering his friend.

"Well, I don't want to press you, but you could at least lose the load off your-"

"Do you know Mr. Horpet? Of Becketsville?" Mr. Darcy interrupted suddenly.

"Frederick Horpet?"

"I'm not sure…"

"I think it is Freddy Horpet. He's the only Horpet of the Horpets who's not yet reached old age- I mean he's not bed-ridden or ill. But he's staying in Bath, not Becketsville."

"Ah, yes, I think that's him."

"Why?"

"Do you know where in Bath he lives?"

"Hmm, no- never been to his place."

"Have you met him?"

"Yes. He's come here before. Very quiet. Rather reserved and full of consequence. I spoke to him once or twice at the Red Lion about a year ago."

"How does he look like?"

"Look like!?" exclaimed Mr. Bingley, who did not expect a question of the kind. "I don't remember very well…about thirty-ish…medium height and quite stout…ah yes, that's why I spoke to him- he was thinking of renting a house in Klyne street in Bath-I have an aunt who lives nearby…hm, well there wasn't anything out-of-the ordinary about his person…although he did sport a very strange neck pin…"

"Charles, are you free this Thursday?" asked Mr. Darcy, his eyes gleaming as he put together the pieces of a plan.

"I think so; my father will be ok without me for a day…or is it two?" he asked as he started to see the invisible plan beginning to take shape in his friend's eyes.

"We'll need at least three days.

"What to do? Where to go?"

Mr. Darcy got up from his chair and started to pace about the room, grazing his chin occasionally with the back of his hand.

"You have an aunt in Bath…" he asked, unable to believe how providential it was that his friend had relatives who were very conveniently situated.

"Mrs. Hillinston. My mother's sister."

"Do you visit her often?"

"Once a month at least…usually towards the end of each month."

"Will she mind your visiting her a bit earlier than usual, with a friend of yours who would be forever indebted to you if you could do such a thing?" Mr. Darcy asked, without removing his eyes off the portrait of his mother and sisters-done by himself- which hung on the wall opposite.

Mr. Bingley got up and walked toward his friend.

Frowning, he said, "I could be able to do it if this friend of mine would stop interrogating me in such a…such an irksome manner!…and tell what the buttons he's thinking of- surely you don't only mean to pay respects to my aunt?"

"I would not want to offend Mrs. Hillinston by not doing so- but at the same time, yes, it is with different reasons I wish to travel to Bath."

"And what may these reasons be?"

Mr. Darcy quietly walked to the door and exclaimed purposefully loudly, "I'll tell you outside- some fresh air would do us good."

Kitty jumped a bit and hid behind the staircase, anticipating her brother's appearance. Minutes passed and yet no one came out. She frowned but remained hidden.

"Well?" asked Mr. Bingley who had returned to his seat and was about to get up.

Dropping his voice several decibels lower, and gesturing to his friend to remain seated Mr. Darcy turned around and explained his impromptu plan.

At the end of his recital which was highly exaggerated at places, Mr. Bingley said, "Right…and later on- after restoring the stolen jewels to your Count Horpet and killing Sir Wicksbottom- we escape to the the West Indies on a pirate ship where we'll be living in hiding for a year?"

Mr. Darcy nodded and said perfectly seriously, "Yes…exactly so…but we'll also be needing to stop by at France on the way."

"What for?"

"Haven't you always wanted to go to France?"

"No…But I'd like to visit."

"Well, here's our chance." replied Mr. Darcy with a whimsical smile as they exited the drawing-room.

*** Note: Hmm... too many cliff- hangers???...hehe ;)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Note: Pls ignore the spacings btwn the sentences....i tried to remove it but this sftware is v. stubborn.....**

Penelope gazed out from an upstairs window. The view afforded, which was that of the driveway, showed no signs of life. A few sparrows hunted for worms in the dirt near the road while the sun shone bright on their little bodies, casting eerily long shadows on the driveway. It was already three past noon and Penelope was beginning to get worried. All sorts of unpleasant thoughts began to cultivate in her restless mind. She feared for her friend and prayed that her journey would be safe. Presently a knock on the door was made which made her jump a little.

"Who is it?"

Without an answer, the door was thrown open and Penelope flew in glee to embrace her brother who was standing in the corridor.

"Nat! I had no idea you would be back so soon!"

"Well, I got bored of the company and felt I had bothered Mrs. Duffiner for long enough; and of course I did miss my family—Here, I've got something for you."

Penelope looked at the package which he was holding behind him.

"What…." her voice trailed off as she started to rip the paper off.

"Natt!!!!" she shrieked in laughter.

"I'm no longer little! I am a grown lady!" she retorted jokily as she held a miniature toy pony in her hand.

"What else could I have gotten you?...How's papa by the way—haven't seen him yet."

"Oh he's alright he-"

Penelope stopped as she heard the unmistakable sound of horse hooves nearby. Rushing to the window, her eyes lit up as they fell on the chaises below and she breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Who is it?"

"Elizabeth!!!"

Nathaniel nearly tumbled as his sister flew out of the room to welcome her friend.

*

"Gringham! Got any mail today?"

"No sir."

"Hmm…"

"But you had a visitor yesterday, sir."

Wickham turned around and lifted an eyebrow.

"What was he here for?"

"His name was Mr. Darcy…said you asked him to come."

Wickham resumed writing in his journal and said tiredly,

"Oh, yes, I remember--Gringham, could you trim this pen for me?"

The Valet did as he was bade and returned the sharpened pen.

"Anything else, sir?"

"No."

The Valet bowed and exited the room.

Closing his journal, Wickham reached for a fresh piece of paper and began to compose a letter:

_Dear Mr. Horpet,_

_This is regarding the painting you were interested in purchasing._

_There has been a slight problem and I am afraid the arrival of the package will be a bit delayed. But I promise you it will get delivered by next week; no later than next Wednesday. _

_Your's sincerely,_

_James Cod_

Casting a glance at the letter one last time, Wickham sealed it and reached for the bell.

Shortly, a knock was heard at the door and Gringham presented himself.

"Sir?"

"Gringham, please post this."

"Yes, sir."

Wickham got up and walked towards the fireplace. He placed an arm on his side and observed his immaculately dressed person in the mirror across the room. James Cod! Who even knows if he exists!? What a good joke that would be!

*

Elizabeth was hardly in the foyer when Penelope came running down to meet her. Greetings were exchanged as the two girls embraced each other.

"Oh Lizzie! It's so good to see you!"

"Yes, I'm glad it's we're finally here. The roads were in very bad condition."

"I've already packed and- who's that?" Penelope asked as she spotted an unrecognizable figure-who was struggling with the task of removing his coat-over her friend's shoulder.

"Hm?" Elizabeth turned around and whispered back, "Oh, that's only Mr. Collins. He's a clergyman. And is actually a distant cousin of mine."

"Oh, well…he seems a bit busy; wonder where Clarence is; he's usually here to help—anyway, let us go in to the drawing room, it's freezing in here. Where is your aunt by the way?"

Just as she spoke these words, a stately figure emerged from the doorway, dressed from head to toe in feathers and covered in shawls of the most unusual colours.

This figure approached the two girls at its usual slow pace and when it reached them, extended a hand to Miss Brompton.

"Ah, Penelope! So good to see you! Thank you for sending the chaise. How is your mother?"

Penelope replied that her mother was in good health and inquired where Charleston was.

Her ladyship revealed a little nose peeping out from the bundle of shawls which covered her body. Penelope bent to pet the little creature that hid in his mistress's clothes.

"Poor Charleston has got a bad cold I'm afraid. Haven't you Charles-ly? But don't worry, we'll get you something warm to eat."

*

"Sweet Isabel"

Violet skies

Fill me up with sadness

To hear your deep sighs

Fall on the ground

Dear Sweet Isabel

Why do you sigh all day long

Wishing that the sun

Would shine just once more

The brook flows sweetly

Between the woods

Soft and cheery

It winds silently

Hush dear Isabel

Hush now child

The sun will shine again

If you stop crying

Georgina's face was red as she hit the last note. But as usual, she received a round of applause and much admiration from the small audience gathered around.

"Brilliant! Well performed Miss Darcy! I must say, you would put even the greatest Italian Opera singers to shame!"

Georgina blushed as she received this gallant remark from a Mr. John Lucas, who was seated near the piano.

The Lucas' had come for dinner at Mrs. Darcy's home not a few hours ago. Everyone was in their after-dinner mood; which was somewhat elevated after the wine was passed around. Also present at the little party were Mr. Bingley and Mr. Oak.

The former was seated at the back of the little crowd, next to Mr. Darcy who was in tolerably good spirits for someone who detested "Sweet Isabel".

"So it's all set then? For Thursday?"

Mr. Darcy looked up, bemused.

"I mean the 'trip' to Bath."

"Oh…that, well there's nothing much to prepare."

"Does your family know?"

"I told them I was going purchase paint supplies."

Mr. Bingley looked at his friend with an odd expression.

"What?" asked Mr. Darcy.

"I doubt if they even have paint supplies in Bath—and for three whole days?"

"Well, I could send them a message telling that the shop ran out of supplies and that I had to wait for two more days to get them-which is much more sensible than travelling back and forth repeatedly."

Placing a hand on his chin, Mr. Bingley meditated for a minute and said, "Hmm. Makes sense."


End file.
